


Going Underground

by KirkyPet



Series: The Shipping Forecast [9]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Chernobyl, Citadel babies, Dementia, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family History, Insecurity, Recovered Memories, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 06:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkyPet/pseuds/KirkyPet
Summary: A development threatens to disrupt the fledgling relationship. Much soul-searching ensues. An unexpected encounter sparks memories. Shit happens, probably.(Does this sound like a soap episode? I do hope so. Not the last bit, maybe)





	Going Underground

_Some people might say my life is in a rut_  
But I'm quite happy with what I got    
People might say that I should strive for more    
But I'm so happy I can't see the point  

 _...And the public wants what the public gets_  
But I don't get what this society wants    
I'm going underground (going underground)    
Well the brass bands play and feet start to pound    
Going underground (going underground)    
So let the boys all sing and the boys all shout for tomorrow   

          Sergiy the mushroom farmer, coincidentally a big fan of The Jam  

                     https://youtu.be/AE1ct5yEuVY  

*

 _It had been so perfect_ , she thought. Funny how you only truly appreciate something when it's over. 

They’d spent the last three months driving side by side on the open Road, dealing with those they’d encountered along the way. He had her back and she had his, and they both knew each other so well in a way that barely needed words. This was what she’d been lacking in the days and months after the takeover of the Citadel. And the long lonely years before that. Someone who _understood_. Mothers, she would miss this… 

They’d curled up together at nights, they’d solaced themselves in each other, and they’d _talked_. In their own way, at least.  

But there were so many things they still hadn’t talked about. After the mysterious disappearance of the not-quite-derelict vehicle, Furiosa had told him what she knew of her father. His role in the discovery of the Citadel and how he had briefly met her mother in the Green Place while evading Joe’s wrath. How he was almost certainly alive and driving a tricked-out camper van in company with an unknown number of allies, one of whom was notably shorter than most. Namely, the Roadrunner. That had been an animated conversation, and one which had added an extra layer to Max’s interest in tracking down this elusive individual. 

On his side, on another occasion, Max had haltingly told, in broken sentences, of Jessie; how she’d played in a jazz band and loved the sea. And how she’d been mown down, clutching their child, by a road gang seemingly as brutal and addled as any she’d ever taken on as War Boy or Imperator. She’d always known the Mothers had left the city for good reasons, one of which was to avoid gangs like these who seemed to revel in the collapse of society. Despite this, Furiosa had clung to an image of a city where people were somehow better than that. But then this wasn’t Before, not really. Not a different time, just a different location. 

So they had both shared a lot during these precious months on the Road. They both had a way of asking questions that would have received a blank wall if asked by others.  

“So, Max…how would you feel about being a dad again?” 

That was the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask. 

* 

Despite her best efforts in her teenage years to starve herself into a perpetually prepubescent state, she’d proved to be irritatingly regular in her bleeds once they’d begun at fifteen. It had been two months since the last one. The sickness had been mild, compared to the stories she’d been told. Besides, she could pass it off jokingly…she was a soft Citadel resident, after all, not a feral who could eat any damn thing. She’d blamed it on a bad lizard the first week, but that would only pass for so long… 

If it was real, and not the long-awaited growths she’d expected to get like the rest of her Barracks companions, then…she’d have to return. The child would belong to the New Citadel, to join the new society they were building. Healthy babies were still painfully few, and this one would be the first new Vuvalina by blood. Even if it was a boy, it would be one of theirs. She’d seen the clan reduced to three, and she would try to give one back if she could. 

Thanks to Giddy and Lyra, and the twist of fate that had lost her her arm as a kid, she’d never had to contemplate her own fertility. These months with Max had certainly made her consider the possibility, but…what then? It’s only been in the last month that she felt they were almost in a place where they could talk about it…and by then it was already too late. 

She had to go back, now there was something she knew she could give. But Max didn’t owe the Mothers anything. He had no reason to make the Citadel his home. _He had her_ …a voice whispered. _And he would have his child…if it lived_. But that was the crux of it all. Could he do that again? Could she even ask him to? 

If this meant she would lose him…then it’s a sacrifice she’d have to make.  

***** 

 _Max hadn’t much been one for planning the future. But ever since_ _Furiosa_ _had returned his kiss…and the blissful series of events that had followed (it still felt like it must have all been a dream, that all this would disappear in a moment of wakening)…he had been forced to consider the possibility of this happening. It was like taking a knife and slicing into half-healed scar tissue, but it was necessary. What if…? It was unthinkable…until it wasn’t. The whole world, his world, was so very different to what it had been. Unrecognisable. Like a different time, a different universe altogether. He had already seen and heard and felt_ _Furiosa_ _dying in his arms, and that hadn’t driven him away for long. Maybe he was stronger now. He didn’t feel stronger. When he forced himself to think of losing_ _Furiosa_ _, or their child, his brain recoiled in horror._  

 _He tortured himself with these ideas, night after night in his car. Testing himself, forcing himself to run. She would die. Their children would die. And he would watch and be powerless to stop it. Again. But still he stayed. It was strange, though, how his nightmares were different now, despite everything he was doing to stir them up from the darkest corners of his brain. Maybe it was being near her that did it._  

 _He dreamed of Jessie, and of_ _Sprog_ _. But there was no horror, no blood. Just memories. Things he’d long forgotten were weaving themselves back into the ravelled fabric of his memory. He began to feel…perhaps…that if he had to go through it all again, he would. Without a moment’s hesitation. They were so precious, those times he’d shared with them. Those months of gut-clenching dread and the horror that had followed…even that didn’t weigh against the life he had had before, albeit briefly. He thought, maybe, he could go through it all again._  

 _“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”. Max thought people who glibly trotted out those sort of platitudes should be sliced thinly from the feet up.. But that didn't mean he didn't believe it might be a little bit true.._  

***** 

Capable had been discovered in a flood of bittersweet tears one day, crumpled up in the corner of the Vault annexe. It was just after Max came back with Nux’s wheel. She wouldn’t talk to anyone, not even her sisters, and it was only after a whispered conference between Toast and Cheedo that anyone began to glean an inkling of what was _really_ the matter.  Toast admitted that she’d seen Capable and her War Boy creep off to the Rig that night they’d camped with the Vuvalini. Toast had almost stopped her then…she was appalled at the idea that anyone who’d just escaped one schlanger would welcome the advances of another. But Cheedo, ever the romantic, had insisted that… _no, this was different_. They all blessed the twist of fate that had meant Capable had bled just before they’d escaped. So it _couldn’t_ be Joe's. 

So she was left with a reminder of her lost Boy. They thought of how she’d reacted when the last traces of hope evaporated. They’d been unable to send anyone to the wreck, despite the unspoken anguish in her eyes. They had to defend themselves, to establish allies and secure their hold on the Citadel. She must have suspected then…poor girl. But she had always longed for a child of her own and, if this one lived, it would certainly be loved. 

* 

Dag and Capable…one hating, the other loving, the dead father of their baby.  Dag taking her child to her heart in defiance of Joe, and Capable clinging to hers in grieving memory of her lost War Boy. Seeing in his little face his father’s features, something Dag had sworn _she_ would never do. How could that tiny, startlingly perfect baby girl look like that blistered and broken down old bastard anyway? 

Furiosa imagined herself as a mother among them, and Max gone, bolted. Could she bear it? Of course. She had borne grief, violence, pain and humiliation time and time again, and this wouldn’t break her. She would be making an undoubted contribution to the New Citadel, something she’d struggled to find a way to accomplish to her satisfaction. They had her gun, her leadership, and her strategic nous. But they weren’t _needed_ , not really. The Vuvalini, both old and adopted, had formed a working concord with Ace and his Boys. The Wretched were now the People, many of whom were offering their hands and heads to the new society. She _knew_ it was selfish to want to leave. She could have been _of use_ , she knew. But it wasn’t enough to keep her there. Now she felt she had something to give, at least something she couldn’t bring herself to withhold. It didn’t make any sense to bring up a child on the Road when the Citadel was there to embrace it anyway. She wouldn’t let her mind dwell on what it would be like if Max stayed…she couldn’t afford to give that thought a chance to germinate and grow. It would be too painful to tear it out. 

***** 

 _So that was it...Hadn't he seen most of it before, what felt like lifetimes ago? The sickness and sporadic loss of appetite would have worried him, if it wasn't for the other signs. He'd only ever seen her cry once before, when she finally faced the certainty that Val was dead. So to find her silently shedding tears while hunched under the car bonnet was an uncommon occurrence. Of course, she blamed it on a gritty gust of wind._  

 _But why hadn't she told him? A malicious little voice whispered that she hadn't really wanted him, just what he could give her. The thought buzzed around his head briefly, but was promptly swatted when he saw the reason on her face when she thought he wasn't looking. She was afraid he would run._  

 _She had talked of what she owed to the last of the_ _Vuvalini_ _, how she had to make reparations for their losses. He understood, at least partly. God knows, he understood guilt. But that hadn't been all.. She would sink into his touch, but then withdraw, as if closeness with him was something she had to get used to being without. It was only in hindsight that these hints became plain to see…_  

 _This wall of silence was threatening to crush her, that was clear.  If she was just afraid of losing him, he would have to speak. But it wasn't one of Max's strong points. Just 'I know', that would be enough._  

*****

These were his thoughts as they sped along, Furiosa chewing a fingernail as she stared blankly out the passenger window. Max took a deep breath... 

"Furi, can I...?" he began, turning to look at her. She was still staring out the window, but her body language was now charged with excitement. "What is it?" he asked, craning his neck to see.  

"Max...does that look like a military compound to you?” She turned to him with eyes shining. It wasn't quite the Holy Grail, but it might hold the key to finding it. 

* 

They pulled up cautiously by the perimeter fence. Initially it seemed that the posts were manned but with strangely immobile sentries. Closer inspection showed that they were mounted with the long-dead, in uniform, holding sticks fashioned to look like guns. No sign of life anywhere.  

Furiosa takes her boltcutters from the car and they proceed to the fence, where she cuts a hole in the chainlink. They climb through and advance cautiously, eyes scanning the low concrete buildings.  _Silence_. The place genuinely looks deserted.  

' _Ping'_ A cloud of dust erupts by Max's foot. ' _Ping, ping'_ a little to the left. He grabs Furiosa and they dive for cover behind the remains of a tumbledown concrete wall. They wait, tense, assessing the situation. Max takes a shiny piece of metal from a pocket, uses it as a mirror. Trying to see who's shooting at them. Not a great shot, by the look of it. A voice screams at them from a distance, from the direction of the shots. It's an old guy, waving a pellet gun. Yelling imprecations at them in an incomprehensible language. But it sounds strangely familiar to Max... 

 _"_ _Chort_ _tebe_ _bery_ _,_ _zlodiys'ki_ _vyrodky_ _!"_  

Max sat back abruptly, frowning. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. _"_ _Dyad'ko_ _Maksym?_ _"_ he whispers, to himself.  

"What?" Furiosa stares at him. "What's he saying? Do you know?" 

Max is pale under layers of grit, staring back at Furiosa like he doesn't know where he is. "Max? Just breathe, it's okay..." He blinks, shakes his head as if to clear away a fog. And he gives a quick laugh, he _smiles_ at her albeit confusedly. "I'd forgotten..." he murmurs. 

"Do you understand what he's saying? The man who's shooting at us? Max?" 

"Um...he wants us to go away...that's for sure" 

"I got that." Furiosa looked a little exasperated. "Could you speak to him? He looks like he's alone. Negotiate?" 

Max took a deep breath, rolled his eyes. "I can't remember how to say much...better at understanding it. Don't know how to say ' _we come in peace'"_

"Well, give it a try anyway."

"Okay..." Max turned slightly and yelled at the top of his voice. _"_ _Meni_ _patribno_ _kakashky_ _!"_  

The old man stopped yelling and stood still for a moment. Then he waved his arm, beckoning expansively. 

"It worked! That's the 'come in' gesture! What'd you say to him?" 

"I asked him if I could use his toilet." 

"What?" 

"It's the first thing that came to mind"  

"He's still waving at us. He actually looks quite happy about it. Shall we go?" 

 _"Tse_ _dobre_ _dlya_ _hrybiv_ _!"_  

Furiosa looked expectantly at Max. "Um. I might have misheard that. He says it's good for...the mushrooms?" 

She thought for a moment and made a wry face. Furiosa had quite liked mushrooms before now. Max took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, do we want to get in there or not?" 

* 

His name was Sergiy and he was alone here. He lived underground and grew mushrooms to stay alive. And he didn't mind this, because he was completely blind. 

He'd been the commissary whenever the compound had been raided by the white men. His vision had been clouding for some time, and the others knew it. He was afraid, because they weren't the same people that they had been before the system fell. He knew they wouldn't tolerate a freeloader in their midst, and that's what he would be if they knew he was useless to them. So he didn't come running when he heard the shooting, the shouts. He stayed in the darkness, where he felt safe. No-one came for him. The raiders took what they wanted and left. 

That had been fifteen years ago. He'd survived in the darkness better than anyone else could, because it was home to him now. And he knew how to grow mushrooms. The only limiting factor was that he was just one man. And he could only produce so much _kaka._  

So once he knew there were only two of them, and they didn't want his mushrooms, he welcomed the newcomers. They wanted papers, which were useless to him. He knew they were there, in old metal boxes. It saddened him sometimes, that he might once have read them and learned from them. But that time had been and gone, and he was satisfied with his lot. He had a niche, and he would survive. They could take it and welcome. 

* 

"Does the lift work?"  

"Oh, sure, sure...well, maybe is not so good for people." 

Max stepped hurriedly out again, hearing something creak ominously above his head. 

"How's it powered?" Furiosa asked, doubtfully. 

"Clockwork!" the farmer declared, proudly. 

While Furiosa sorted through papers, Max and the mushroom farmer spent the best part of half an hour cranking the handle in turns. Then they tested it out. A sad groan emitted from the mechanism, a cog shot out and stuck in the opposite wall. 

" _Ach_ _,_ _Peezdets'_ " the old man muttered. "Was gonna happen someday." 

"What now?" 

"Now we pull" he shrugged. Furiosa sighed and moved to extricate the rope from the mechanism, first checking that the pulley was locked. 

"Umm..." Max interjected.  

"What's up?" 

"Maybe you shouldn't..." 

"Why not?" 

"Well..." Max paused. "Well, you hurt your arm that time, and..." 

"But that was ages ago...it's fine now..." The penny dropped and she turned away in confusion. _He knew. Of course he knew..._  

She heard him draw near and whisper, "Let's just do this, and then we can go home...if you want to...?" 

 _Oh Mothers...the waterworks again_ , she thought. _What the hell was wrong with her these days?_ She turned to him with a questioning look, and saw the answer in his eyes. 

"Yeah?" he asked. 

She took his hand and drew it to her lips. "Yeah" she replied. 

"ARE WE CHATTING OR PULLING NOW?" the farmer interjected impatiently, tired of standing holding the rope.  

* 

 _It's funny how Max remembered more about his past these days. It's like he was allowing himself to remember. And he found that he was less and less defined by his nightmares. He found that more of his memories were not of blood and pain and regret and failure._  

Here's how it was... 

 _Uncle_ _Maksym_ _thinks he’s chasing cats out of the garden. When, in reality, it's armed scavengers…_  

 _But it must be offputting trying to raid crops from a garden when there's a crazy old guy with an eyepatch, hissing and screaming at you in an unknown language, armed only with a stick, or an umbrella or, on one occasion, a samurai sword. But, as time went on and things got worse in the suburbs, they left the shotgun where he could_ _find it. He was as mad as a box of frogs, but he was still a good shot. And he wasn't above shooting persistent cats._  

 _*_  

 _He also believed that evil spirits lived in the toilet. To be fair, this was around the time that the municipal authorities decided that they had more pressing issues to deal with than sewer maintenance. It really did smell kind of hellish in there by that stage. So_ _Maksym_ _insisted on locking the bathroom door and keeping the key on his person at all times. He was a wily old bastard and would take a swing at anyone he suspected of trying to poach it. He would give it to Max only if he asked nicely. And that meant, in Ukrainian._  

 _*_  

 _Max had been very young, but he was a fast learner, especially when internal pressures demanded it._  

 _And now he remembered the old man, who'd died when he was about nine or ten. He was gruff and scary-looking with his one steely blue eye but he doted on his little namesake, and would throw him to the ceiling and catch him, while Max giggled hysterically._  

 _His father sat him on his knee one day and explained that Uncle_ _Maksym_ _was getting very old and he was starting to forget things. Sometimes that happened when someone had lived a long time and had learned a lot of useful things…their memory would get too tired to keep hold of it all. So Max should try not to mind if Uncle maybe someday didn't know who he was or talked in a way Max didn't understand. It was just his brain getting tired. He was still the same in here, his dad put a fist to his chest._  

 _*_  

 _Max remembered his father tell him of the first time the world burned. Not the whole world, just a town at first, then a whole region. But Petrov_ _Rokotyansky_ _had been just two years old when the Number Four Reactor ruptured, so it really was the whole world to him. Uncle_ _Maksym_ _never told him the details, but Petrov understood that his parents got very sick and had begged him to take their baby son out of harm’s way._ _Maksym_ _promised he'd take the boy to the far side of the world, and he had. He had been in the position to do so, because of his job and the travel privileges it afforded. Petrov never had been told as much, but he presumed his uncle had been a KGB operative of some kind. Either way, the man and boy arrived in Australia with the necessary papers, their surname anglicised slightly to_ _Rockatansky_ _._  

 _And so, Petrov grew up. He learned_ _Strayan_ _at school  and went by the name of Rock to his friends (though he was more of a pebble), who thought it was a enviably cool name. He always got to play the villain in the boys’ games, ‘cos his uncle was a_ _Russki_ _. He left school, got a job in a surveyors office and met Lindsey, a veterinary nurse. Boy meets girl, the world crumbles around them, they carry on regardless. And the rest is family history._  

* 

“How did you know?” Furiosa asks, as the car settles into a steady pace along the dusty road. The back is packed full of papers, an unusual cargo in this day and age.  

Max looks steadily at her for a moment. How can he find words to convey how he scrutinises every look and movement she makes, like it's the most important thing in his world? He shrugged. “I thought it was just wishful thinking at first”  

 _She closed her eyes to fight against the pricking tears._ “But I then I knew. Don't ask me how. I'm not even sure how.” 

“I should have trusted you…”she sighed deeply. _Weeks and weeks of anguish…_ _all the while,_ _‘wishful thinking’_  

Max shook his head. It wasn't about trust and they both knew it. “Prob’ly the hormones…” He glanced at her slyly. _Result._ Her frown was balm to his very soul. It suited her better than tears. 

* 

“Tell me about your uncle? Sounds like he was quite a character.” 

“He believed in what he did. Mostly, anyway. Did a lot of things he wasn't proud of, I think. Gave it all up for his family. He was good to me.” 

“He was your hero, wasn't he?” she smiled at him. 

“Suppose so. Wish I knew more about him though…” 

“I think every kid wishes that, no matter how much they did know…” 

They drove in silence for a while.  

“If it's a boy…Maksym?” she asked, hesitantly, unconsciously brushing her hand over her belly. _But…_ “Unless…?” her brow furrowed anxiously and she looked at him…

He understood the unfinished question. 

“No…he wasn't Maksym.” Max let out a shuddering breath. “He was…” he whispered in Furiosa’s ear. She looked up in surprise. 

“Really? Who was he named for?” 

“Nobody. We just liked the name.” 

* 

“I thought he'd have come with us” Max mused. “Guess he's happy enough as he is.” 

“Seems okay with the idea of visitors though” Furiosa smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. “And I bet I know who'll be keen to go see him.” 

Max grinned. “She's always looking for a new crop. And we've got more shit than we know what to do with. Maybe could trade…?” 

 

And she gripped his hand as the three towers beckoned them home. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope Google Translate isn't just an elaborate joke to take the piss out of the linguistically inept...(I don't speak Ukrainian. I don't know anyone who speaks Ukrainian. So if this is hugely, or even slightly incorrect, blame my ignorance and blind trust in the internet)
> 
> Glossary:
> 
> Chort tebe bery, zlodiys'ki vyrodky!"  
> DEVIL TAKE YOU, THEIVING BASTARDS  
> Dyad'ko  
> UNCLE  
> Meni patribno kakashky  
> I NEED TO POOP (actually poop, like you'd teach a kid to say it)  
> Tse dobre dlya hrybiv  
> IT'S GOOD FOR THE MUSHROOMS  
> Peezdets'  
> FUCKING SHIT (this was from YouSwear.com. Because Google Translate is not so good for swearies, sadly)  
> Strayan  
> AUSTRALIAN FOR AUSTRALIAN ;)
> 
> Other notes:
> 
> The whole 'there's an angry old guy attacking us/can I use your toilet' scene was nicked from Irish romcom 'The Matchmaker'.  
> http://m.imdb.com/title/tt0119632/
> 
> Max's father was born in Pripyat, several years before the Chernobyl disaster in 1986. I didn't go into any kind of detail on this, because it would have involved a lot of reading-up on personal accounts of the event, and it's just meant to be backdrop.
> 
> 'Vuvalina'...Does anyone know the singular of 'Vuvalini'? I thought maybe Vuvalina (fem)/Vuvalinus (masc)...?
> 
> This military compound is (presumably) the same one that Furiosa's dad stole geological records from. These documents pinpointed the location of the aquifer, leading to the eventual founding of the Citadel. They hope that the remaining papers might help them find a new Green Place.


End file.
